


We Can Make It | Markiplier x Reader

by bellerame (orphan_account)



Category: Markiplier - YouTube, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Complete, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6670924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bellerame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Reader moves two states away for college? Nothing good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One - The Heartbreak

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Angst-y

You and Mark got in arguments more often than anyone would’ve thought. Of course, it wasn’t like they disrupted the strength of your relationship; in fact, the arguments almost brought you closer. Each time one of you was strong enough to say I love you even after all of that, it reminded you of all you’d been through over again.

It was the stupidest things you argued over, too. You always were up to compromise, but you never seemed to understand what made Mark  _ want _ to do whatever it was. That was what caused the problems.

So you knew it would be trouble when you desperately wanted to take a college class two states away. Yeah, you had it better off than some, but you were still worried to the largest extent.

You would’ve loved to say you had full trust in yours’ relationship, but you just weren’t.

And, of course, you had to fly off two states away without even mentioning your worry.

It was just two years.  _ We can make it, _ you told yourself, but you knew you didn’t quite believe it.

Don’t get yourself wrong, you loved Mark and wouldn’t have wished anything on him or you, but there was just a whispering voice in the back of your head making you so worried to have any kind of argument with him. In response, any time you texted, called, or Skyped Mark, you were constantly holding yourself back from complaining, and were apologizing  _ all the time. _ You began to become concerned with yourself, almost. Why were you always so frantic and anxious when talking to Mark? Shouldn’t you be comfortable?

Apparently Mark noticed, too, because the next time you Skyped he confronted you about it.

“(Y/n), what’s going on?” he asked, but you simply stared into his eyes on your computer screen. Again, you reminded yourself how they weren’t nearly as  _ real. _ In person, Mark would’ve been hugging you, if you’d let him, and would’ve held you by the shoulders as he stared into you. His eyes would’ve been glowing with worry. Worry that he’d done something wrong. Worry that  _ you’d _ done something wrong.

“(Y/n?)” You shifted your eyes to the pitch black camera at the top of your laptop.

“Mark,” you whispered, moving your gaze to your knees, criss-crossed in front of him. Or, the virtual him.

You knew you’d have to confront him about your worry sometime. You just wished you would’ve said something about it in person.

“Mark, I’m so afraid that we’re going to break up while I’m away,” you said straight away. You wanted to get the shock out of it. “and before you say anything, I just want to say,  _ no, _ I don’t think you’ve done something and no, _ I _ haven’t done anything.” You glanced back up again, seeing nothing but confusion.

“I’m afraid we’ll get into an argument like we always do, but you won’t be there to hug me and tell me sorry. Or that I’ll say something with an attitude like I always do and make you mad, and you’ll ignore me, and I won’t be able to confront you because I’m two states away, and…” A chuckle caught you off guard. Mark was…  _ laughing? _

“(Y/n)...” His deep chuckle yet again resonated from your laptop’s speakers. “Nothing will ever happen to us,” he said while softly shaking his head, and for some reason you believed him.

That was then.

Now, standing in front of his doorstep, tears falling, hands clenched to your suitcase, you would never believe another word he said.

He  _ cheated. _ He said he was drunk. He said he wasn’t thinking. He said he was lonely and  _ drunk _ and  _ couldn’t have done anything. _ Well, that was bull crap.

“You very well could have done something, you little…” you muttered, stopping yourself before knocking. You were only here because you left your mother’s lovely china. You’d given it to him to keep when you’d had to sell your place to go to college. You thought you could keep it in his cabinets forever. You even thought you would  _ get married, _ maybe.

Well, screw that.

The door was opened before you were ready. You didn’t look up, you simply left your suitcase on the porch as you shoved him aside. You walked in and moved to the closet where you knew he kept spare boxes and newspapers from buying consoles and getting gifts. You picked out enough and walked into his kitchen.

He was talking. He was  _ apologizing. _ You didn’t respond. You didn’t even think. How could you without crying?

You thought he wouldn’t touch you, but you felt hands on your shoulders. You froze, unable to think properly. Neither of you spoke until you heard he muttered,  _ "Please... _ listen to me. Talk to me. I love you. We can  _ compromise. _ Please.”

“Compromise…” you whispered.

“Yeah. Compromise. Like we always do.”

_ "Did," _ you corrected him a little too quickly. You were surprised you weren’t pouring tears, but when you thought about all the tears you’d already shed, you knew there weren’t many left.

You turned around with a sudden burst of confidence, but refused to look him in the eye. “Mark, what is there to compromise on? You…” You didn’t want to admit his mistakes out loud. It hurt too much.

“I know I did something wrong.  _ That’s _ what we can compromise on. I know I’m in the wrong, but I don’t want you out of my life. Surely… Surely, you don’t either.”

“I have an idea,” you said, and you almost sobbed when you saw his eyes light up from your peripheral vision. “How about you help me pack china, and maybe… maybe I’ll listen to you… for a minute.” Immediately, he sparked up, letting go of you and pulling one of the boxes to himself. He began to stuff the bottom of the box with newspaper. You stood there, not sure whether you would regret your decisions, but you  _ just couldn’t _ tell him you changed your mind after seeing how excited he was. Gingerly, you began to follow his actions as well.

The time went by too fast. You still hadn’t decided what you wanted to tell him, or even how you felt. When Mark closed up the last box, he looked up at you with a small smile.

“I- I’ll get you some tea,” he offered, but waited for you to respond before moving on. You shyly nodded, keeping your gaze tied to the floor. He picked the boxes up off the floor and carried them carefully over to where you saw he’d dragged in your suitcase by the door.

Oh, what were you to tell him?


	2. Chapter Two - The Realization

He made your tea perfectly. He always made your tea perfectly. It was green and sweetened just enough, and even though most of the time you enjoyed it in ice, he decided to keep it hot this time. It was exactly what you wanted, too.

He sat on the opposite side of his couch. You didn’t even have to make him sit on the opposite side of his couch; he sat there out of courtesy. 

He didn’t say anything, either, as if he knew you didn’t want anything to be said.

A tear fell down your cheek before you noticed it. And before you noticed it, he noticed it.

“Oh my, (Y/n). Would you like a tissue?” Yes, you would like a tissue. That was exactly what you wanted. The question made another tear slide down your red cheek, and before you could stop yourself, you sobbed. You’d been wanting so badly to sob - to let out the emotions you’d been feeling. And not just your anger, but your sadness. The sadness was the thing that made you angry; the sadness was the thing that kept you away, and yet the sadness was the thing that kept you circling back to him. 

_ Him. _ Oh, him, the one who always seemed to know how to make you cry.

You shed a tear when you met from searing hot coffee. You cried about him all the time throughout your knowing him as friends because of various reasons; one being his relationship with his father; another when he was in the hospital because of his stomach. You cried the day he confessed (simply out of love), and here you are crying again.

You nodded profusely, and he immediately sat his steaming coffee on the table before him. Only a moment later, he returned with a tissue. You could tell when you wiped your eyes with it that it was sewn with lotion, which you always used to complain about before it became habit to look for the ones with lotion instead of normal tissues for him.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered lowly, believing he hadn’t heard you, but wishing he had. He sat down next to you.

You wanted him to hug you so badly.  _ So badly _ did you want him to whisper in your ear that everything would be okay; you wanted him to stroke your hair and rub circles on your lower back.  _ So badly. _

But he didn’t. It was the first time he hadn’t done something you desired, and you sobbed again because of it.

You knew why he didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt you. He was afraid you hated him. By hugging you, he could scare you away forever. He thought  _ he _ was the thing you didn’t want. In reality, he was all you ever wanted.

That was when you realized that no matter what he’d done, you couldn’t live without him. How could you live without him? You’d definitely have to talk to him and create boundaries and such, but there was no way you could simply ruin your own life by forcing him away. After all, people make mistakes.

So, you hugged him.


End file.
